Chapter 17 AT POST BRIDGE HALL.

The warders stared into each other's faces.

"It's a bad job. You're sure he's dead--"

"I wouldn't have done it for anything," the man who had fired the shot whispered. "I aimed at his legs, too. Damn the gun!"

He threw it into the heather, and turned away to hide his emotion.

The second warder glanced back over his shoulder. The fog was